


You Are Whatever a Moon Has Always Meant

by lavenderlotion



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angst, Barebacking, Bittersweet, Bottom Chris Argent, Cuddling & Snuggling, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Mates, Past Relationship(s), Porn with Feelings, Post-Season/Series 03, Top Peter Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 17:08:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16496732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderlotion/pseuds/lavenderlotion
Summary: “Against my better judgment, I am here to collect you,” Peter told him. His voice was cool and uncaring, exactly what he wanted, and he made sure to keep his face a blank mask.Christopher snorted, the sound anything but pleasant, and took another swing from his tumbler. “S'not your job.”Peter was quiet for a moment, caught up in staring at Christopher's beard and the way it was shot with the grey. The lines around his eyes seemed to be etched deeper than they ever had been before, and his eyes were dark, empty in a way Peter had never seen on him. He took a breath and told himself that it wasn't weakness if it was only them. “You're my mate, Christopher.”





	You Are Whatever a Moon Has Always Meant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Herbeloved82](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herbeloved82/gifts).



> the title is a quote from E. E. Cummings, thank you [Augury](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuguriesofInnocence) for the help!
> 
>  
> 
> _a note: Chris is still a bit intoxicated when they have sex, but he is 100% on board with the proceedings, and him being intoxicated isn't focused on_

The bar stunk, and it burned Peter's nose the moment he stepped through the door, an obnoxious bell jingling above his head. Peter was not surprised, but the stench of nicotine and stale liquor was stronger than he would have expected. The interior of the bar was no better than the exterior, and Peter shouldn't have expected any more from a place as littered with cigarette buts as the front of this place had been.

Peter turned up his nose, disgust rolling through his stomach as he looked around. He had only stepped inside because he had recognized the Tahoe and he knew exactly who the van belonged to. Now that he  _ was  _ inside, having to breathe through his mouth else the smell of piss make him gag, he was questioning his decision. Which also shouldn't have surprised him, seeing as he always questioned his decisions when it came to Christopher Argent.

It only took him a moment to spot the other man, and Peter's eyes skipped over his broad shoulders and trim waist. He pushed aside any appreciation he may have felt, too busy telling himself that he was annoyed. Besides, he  _ did not _ appreciate the way Christopher's arms looked in his t-shirt. That was just ridiculous. Peter started towards the bar Christopher was sat at, keeping his eyes from wandering even as his senses took in the other...unsavoury occupants scattered about the place.

Peter stepped up to the bar stool Christopher was sat at, warring with himself for making such a foolish decision, and he stood there until he was acknowledged. When Christopher spoke, the slur in his voice was far worse than Peter had expected for the time of evening. “What do'u'wan, Pe'er?”

“Against my better judgment, I am here to collect you,” Peter told him. His voice was cool and uncaring, exactly what he wanted, and he made sure to keep his face a blank mask.

Christopher snorted, the sound anything but pleasant, and took another swing from his tumbler. “S'not your job.”

Peter was quiet for a moment, caught up in staring at Christopher's beard and the way it was shot with the grey. The lines around his eyes seemed to be etched deeper than they ever had been before, and his eyes were  _ dark _ , empty in a way Peter had never seen on him. He took a breath and told himself that it wasn't weakness if it was only them. “You're my mate, Christopher.”

“That isn't fair,” Christopher said, his voice slower and steadier than it had been only a moment before and when he looked up, his eyes were hardened by something Peter didn't want to name but knew too well.

“Come on now, my car is idling,” it wasn't true, but Peter didn't know what to do with how Christopher was watching him.

Peter placed a bill down on the bar, definitely more than was needed to cover how much the other man had drunk, and he motioned for Christopher to stand up. The other man ignored him, staring at the cash until the bartender came and collected it, nodding his head towards Peter.

Finally, Christopher stood on unsteady feet and Peter reached out to steady him on instinct, forcing himself to keep his hands where they were and not pull them back like he wanted to.

“I'ave money,” Christopher stated, even patting his front pocket where Peter could see the outline of his wallet through too-tight jeans.

“I know,” Peter told him, letting Christopher lean against him as they walked out of the bar together. Underneath the bitter scent of grief, Christopher smelled just as sweet as Peter remembered from their youth, and he had to suddenly blink back a burning in his eyes.

“Stop cour'ing me,” Christopher mumbled and Peter barked out a laugh that hurt.

“Trust me, darling, that was not a show of courtship.”

Christopher said nothing, to which Peter was grateful, and he led them to his car silently. His wolf was pacing under his skin, feeling raw. Peter felt it too, the way Christopher's very presence was already getting to him, burrowing inside his skin and making him feel unsettled. He hated it, hated that Christopher still had so much power over him after so many years. Hell, it had been  _ decades _ and the other man could still make Peter feel like he was nothing more than a godforsaken teenager.

“What're yo’oing, Pe'er?” Christopher asked him, his voice a husky slur of words that made Peter feel more than he would admit to himself.

“I'm taking you home, Christopher,” Peter told him with a tired sigh.

He had to help Christopher down into his car, holding him steady and guiding him into the seat. Peter heard the interested skip in Christopher's heart when he leaned over him to buckle his seat belt but he ignored it. He slammed the door, rounding the car and climbing into his side as anger bubbled under his skin.

Peter had no idea what the hell he was doing. He should have kept driving, should have left Christopher to rot in the damn bar. If he was going to drink himself stupid in a useless attempt at drowning out his grief, he should have to deal with the fallout. It was like Christopher had said: this wasn't Peter's job. Christopher wasn't Peter's responsibility and he hadn't been for years, for  _ decades _ .

But, like Peter had said: Christopher was his mate and that would never change. No matter how strained the mate bond was, no matter how long Peter's wolf spent mourning the loss of its mate, the bond would always be there; brittle and malnourished and  _ burning _ , simmering under Peter's skin and reminding him that something was always missing, that he would never be whole without Christopher loving him.

Peter would be loath to admit it, but what hurt the most, what made him want to claw his way out of his own skin if only to get the ache to  _ stop _ , was that Christopher knew. Christopher had always known; known that the fastest way to kill a werewolf was to kill its mate, that without one, the other would quickly die—most likely at its own hand. Christopher had known, and he still left, carelessly tearing Peter's heart out of his chest as he did so.

The drive to Christopher's house was done in silence. Peter said nothing as he drove through Beacon Hills, the town looking nothing like he remembered. Sometimes he would find something that had changed during the six years he spent comatose and it would shock him into a panic that was wholly unwelcome. Driving through town with Christopher in his passenger seat made him feel much the same: he felt uneasy and unsettled, his skin too tight around his bones.

He pushed it away, focusing on the task at hand as he parked in Christopher's driveway. He kept his silence as he got Christopher out of the car and up the drive, supporting him with a hand on the small of Christopher's back up the patio steps and to the front door.

“Give me your keys,” Peter said, holding out his hand and waiting for Christopher to hand them over. It took far longer than it should have and Peter stood there, impatiently tapping his foot against the porch wood.

When Christopher finally handed them over, Peter wasted no time in getting the front door open. He turned the alarm off on autopilot, not even realizing that he had known the code until he found Christopher staring at him. Peter bristled, the hairs on the back standing on end as he ignored the unwanted feeling that was beginning to climb up his throat.

“You need a glass of water,” Peter told him, making his way to the kitchen if only to get away from the emotion in Christopher's eyes.

“What're you doing, Peter?” Christopher asked, and he sounded far better than he had when Peter first picked him up. He trailed into the kitchen as Peter was filling a glass from the tap, and he looked lost.

Peter told himself it didn't hurt.

“What are  _ you _ doing, Christopher? Don't tell me this has become a regular occurrence for you.”

“You don't understand—”

“Don't you dare say I don't understand what it feels like,” Peter snarled, cutting Christopher off, his top lip pulling back to expose his fangs even as his eyes flashed electric blue. He pushed Christopher with human strength, but he didn't feel any pleasure when Christopher fell back against the wall. “You  _ know _ what I lost and we both know whose fault that was.”

“That wasn't my fault,” Christopher said, and his voice sounded as dangerous as his eyes looked.

“Oh, fuck you, Christopher. You can claim innocence if it makes you feel better, but your  _ sister _ burned my family alive!” Peter spat, stalking forward until he was once again in Christopher’s face.

“I wasn't even in the damn state!” Christopher yelled, getting his hands between them to shove Peter back.

He growled, snapping his teeth as he caged Christopher against the wall. He tasted like the whisky he had been drinking and Peter pressed even closer, holding Christopher against the wall with his weight. His lip stung when Christopher bit into it, hands leaving bruises that would heal in minutes along his hips. Peter kissed back with just as much anger, forcing his way into Christopher's mouth. 

Peter moaned, pressing their hips together to find Christopher already hard. He rolled his body, dragging their lengths together as he panted into the other man’s mouth. The kiss was messy, too much tongue and too much saliva, a harsh clash of their teeth as they met each other with enough force that it hurt. 

Sucking on Christopher's tongue, Peter pushed his hands under the man’s shirt, enjoying the feel of softened muscle under his hands. He trailed his hands higher, getting distracted by the way Christopher's body hair tickled his palms. Christopher had always been bigger, always a few inches taller with shoulders that were just a touch broader, but now they were much more evenly matched. 

“ _ Peter _ ,” Christopher moaned, and while the voice was deeper than it should have been the tone was intimately familiar. Peter bent, not breaking the kiss as he got his hands under Christopher's thighs and he lifted, sliding his hands to hold the man up by his ass. 

Christopher ground forward, rolling his hips in a way that felt like sin, and Peter tightened his hold. He stumbled backwards, his hip hitting the island and he grunted. Christopher laughed, sounding like it was shocked out of him, and he moved his hands from where they had been gripping Peter’s shoulders to cup his face.

His fingers were gentle when they traced over the hair of his goatee. All Peter could focus on was the pounding of their hearts and the heady mix of their arousal. His scenes were full of  _ Christopher _ , his scent and his taste and the feel of him in his arms. It was all Peter could focus on and it felt like he was going to  _ drown _ in at all.

He wasn’t even sure he would mind.

“Take me to bed, Hale,” Christopher told him, staring down at him with eyes full of emotion, filled with  _ so much _ that Peter was scared to look away.

“Only because you asked nicely, Argent,” Peter whispered back, the words ripping at his heart as he parroted back the too-familiar exchange. 

While Peter had never before been in this house, it didn’t take him long to find the master bedroom. Christopher’s scent was just as strong as the stench of grief, and he wrinkled his nose as he opened up the door. Still, he focused on the task at hand, throwing Christopher onto the bed and climbing on after him.

He wasted no time in pressing the other man down into the mattress, covering him with his bulk to keep him in place. Peter licked into his mouth, growling approvingly when Christopher opened up for him. Christopher spread his legs, giving Peter more room and he rolled his hips forward, dragging a moan from them both.

Christopher's hands were clumsy as they pulled at Peter’s shirt, tugging on the hem but not doing anything to get it off. Peter grunted in response to the whining noise Christopher made, but he still sat up on his knees to take his shirt off. He got caught up in looking, staring down at the way Christopher was laid out for him.

He was just as beautiful as he had always been, twenty years older and worn down by a life he had never asked for nor deserved. Peter took a claw down his shirt, cutting it in half and letting the sides fall to the bed. His chest was dusted with hair, curling strands of black and grey that trailed down his torso in patches. 

Peter dipped down to follow the road with his tongue, letting himself get distracted by the pretty noises Christopher made when he focused on his nipples. Peter skipped his hands up Christopher’s sides, tickling up and down his ribs as he continued to bite and suck at his chest, pulling up bruises just to prove to himself that this was all real.

Christopher wiggled under him, and Peter moaned when calloused hands slid down his sides. He tucked his fingers into the waistband of Peter’s pants and fiddled with the button until Peter once again pulled back to take them off. Christopher's were next, and the man laughed when they got caught up around his feet.

Peter stared at the way Christopher’s eyes wrinkled, the way the laugh pulled at his face. He was breathless, staring down at Christopher as the other stared up at him, too much between them for this to be anything other than painful. A groan slipped out of his mouth when Christopher arched his back, and he watched as the man reached into his bedside table and pulled out a bottle of lube.

“Peter,” Christopher said softly, his voice hardly more than a whisper, and Peter nodded. 

He bent down, kissing Christopher gentler than he ever had, gentler than he could have known how as a teenager. Each swipe of their tongues was an apology for something neither of them had ever wanted to happen, and they fit together so well, too well, for two people who were never supposed to be together. 

“Like this,” Christopher told him, spreading his legs and making room for Peter between them. He said nothing about the smell of salt in the air, not even sure which one of them it came from.

Peter nodded at the request and poured lube into his hand, letting it warm as he dragged his other palm up and down Christopher’s thigh. Peter was on his knees, Christopher’s legs on either side of him, spread obscenely wide. He pulled him closer, resting Christopher’s ass on his knees for better leverage, using his free hand to push Christopher’s leg back.

His rim, when Peter circled it with his finger, was tight. He made a soft rumbling noise in his chest, doing his best to soothe Christopher’s obvious nerves. It worked and the man relaxed, just enough that Peter was able to push his finger inside. He waited for Christopher’s breathing to slow down before he moved his hand, twisting his finger as he moved it in and out, waiting until he could easily thrust in before adding another.

Christopher grunted under him, hips twitching as he spread his legs even further apart. Peter pushed his second finger in, slowly stretching Christopher open as he scissored his fingers, twisting his wrist as he pumped them in and out. He was warm around Peter’s fingers, his ass holding him tightly.

Peter knew that Christopher had always liked it fast, liked to feel Peter stretching him open and making room for himself inside of him, but Peter couldn’t bring himself to fuck him yet. He poured out more lube, rubbing circles into Christopher's prostate with his fingertips, and as the man was humping the air he slipped in another finger.

He cried out, and Peter leaned down to swallow up his moan. Peter stretched him slowly, carefully, not even thinking of moving forward until his fingers were sliding easily in and out of Christopher's ass. He tugged on his rim just to get a reaction, loving the way Christopher was flushed beneath him, the way he was panting as he held his legs open, staring up at Peter through dark eyes. 

“Do you have—”

“Just you,” Christopher told him, and he said so much more than just those two words. He nodded his head, fucking Christopher with his fingers for a few more, long minutes. 

Finally, he pulled his fingers out, getting distracted by petting Christopher's rim, slipping his fingers just inside to tease him. Christopher mewled and moaned, making such pretty noises as Peter continued to tease him. The other man was covered in a sheen of sweat and all Peter could smell was  _ them _ , the way that their scents had long since blended together. 

“ _ Peter _ ,” Christopher said,  _ begged _ , and Peter replaced his fingers with the head of his cock, flushed red and peaking out from his foreskin with how hard it was. He rubbed it against the wet slide of Christopher’s furrowed hole, a shudder going through him as he got ready to push in. 

Slowly, so slowly that his wolf was snapping unhappily under his skin, Peter pushed in. He held himself steady, growling when Christopher’s body gave way and he sunk in, letting himself fall forward. He held himself up with one hand, the other rubbing soft circles into Christopher's thigh as he continued to push forward, making small thrusts until he was fully seated. 

They both groaned in unison and Peter knew he wasn’t going to last, and he would be embarrassed about it if Christopher wasn’ close toot. He could smell the salty tang of Christopher’s precome, and he trailed his hand higher to ghost over his dick, skipping his fingers up its length even as he rolled his hips.

Christopher was so tight, too tight, and it had been so long since Peter had last done this with anyone. His wolf was itching under his skin, wanting him to fuck harder and faster, and he had to hold himself back from leaning down and biting, claiming Christopher as his own for everyone to see. 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Peter swore, clamping his eyes shut as he tried to keep down his shift, too overwhelmed by how good it all felt to fully rein in his control. Fangs caught on his bottom lip and he snapped his hips forward, dropping his head to Christopher’s chest when his arm gave out.

Christopher's arms wrapped around his back, his nails scratching over Peter’s skin, digging in hard enough that Peter shivered. He swore, rolling his hips on his next thrust, finally wrapping a hand around Christopher’s cock to work at getting him off.

Neither of them lasted much longer. Peter came first, growling through his release as he shook and shook and shook, spilling into Christopher with small, aborted thrusts of his hips. Christopher's hands were warm along his back, keeping Peter grounded and he came soon after, spilling over Peter’s fist and shooting his release between their bodies. 

Peter dropped the rest of his weight, rolling to the side and groaning along with Christopher as his cock slipped free. His head was pillowed on Christopher's peck, the man’s arm still wrapped around him and keeping him held close. They were both breathing deeply, their hearts pounding together and Peter let the smell of their release roll over him, sinking into a comfortable headspace.

“Don't leave,” Chris asked, his voice slurred with exhaustion. He sounded fucked out and Peter let pride build in his chest at bringing his mate so much pleasure. 

“I’ve never left you,” Peter told him, and fair or not it was the truth. He settled deeper into the bed, curling up tighter against Christopher’s chest, letting the man wrap him up in his arms. Peter took a deep breath, pulling in the way his and Christopher's scents had blended together, and he tried to commit it to memory.

He settled in to sleep, ignoring the hollow pit in his stomach and the way his heart still felt like it was being ripped apart. Peter hadn’t lied when he said he never left Christopher, and only the morning would tell if Christopher would leave him again.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are much appreciated!  
> [my tumblr](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/) and [my pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/lavenderlotion)


End file.
